


Stanford's Monster

by VictorKlee



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Frankenstein AU, Gore, Insane Bill Cipher, Insane Ford, Insanity, M/M, Monsters, Novelette, Violence, and stanford wants a boyfriend, bill needs a vessel, planned this to have a tone similar to the journals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictorKlee/pseuds/VictorKlee
Summary: After meeting the powerful and magnificent Bill Cipher, Stanford offers to make him a vessel so that they can be the greatest scientists the world has ever known. Together.





	

I suppose I'll begin by telling of my childhood. I was born on the coast of new Jersey, into a fairly wealthy family. My father worked as a tradesman, selling goods from foreign lands out the side of his ship. My mother was a mere housewife, taking care of me and my twin brother, Stanley. 

Neither of my parents truly encouraged us to seek a greater understanding of the world through science. My father would relentlessly tell my brother and I that we were bound to make a living like he did. 

But as a young boy, I had formed an obsession with studying outdated theories that focused on natural wonders. I myself was born with a deformity that changed my life: six fingers on each hand. The science of life and anatomy was fascinating, and I wanted to produce it.

I came of age and tried to pursue a higher education. My father was nearly disgusted that I would seemingly renounce his behest. In hopes of gaining support in my yearnings, I went to my twin brother. I had expected to gain reassurance, but was left crestfallen. He said he had to stay, that he had no intellect to truly pursue anything but what our father had provided. 

I was indignant. He was my brother, my twin at that! He and I were inseparable. He was the one I entrusted with nearly my entire being. My heart had been shattered. Now he was nothing more than a mere man to me. I told him that, and decided to leave. I stole a sum of money from my father's safe and departed in the dead of night.

The days passed by like shadows, waxing and waning like the edges of the moon. I thought often about what was behind me, what I walked out on or didn't bother to engage. But It got easier and easier, I hardly even felt guilty anymore; I thought one of these days it would fully pass.

I didn't know how far I had hitchhiked and traveled until I came across a small town in Oregon. It sat peacefully in the center of a small valley. Its uniqueness was matched by the backdrop of everclear skies. I knew once I got there that this was where I was meant to be. I was lucky because it wasn't long until I found a place to stay. I ended up using the money I stole from my father to pay my rent. It was nothing spectacular; From the outside, the cabin looked average, it had been built with yellow pine wood and the windows allowed just enough light to enter the home. 

I had enough to pay for rent for a short time, but my money was short lived. I was in need of a job if I wanted any sort of disposable income in the foreseeable future.

I found out that a wealthy man by the name of Preston Northwest owned a coal mine outside of town. It was my first day on the job and I felt horribly out of place. Saying I was nervous was quite the understatement. Sure, I was strong from lifting crates and various packages off of ships in New Jersey, but I was nothing like these men. These men were heavily built. Most of their biceps were larger than my head. As soon I wandered on site a fair amount of eyes were instantly glued onto me. My throat went dry.

I was sure I had made a grave mistake, but I was soon confronted by a rather gaunt man with an unkempt beard and a thick southern accent. 

"I see we've got a new worker. Where are you from?" He asked as he stuffed his lip with tobacco.

I answered honestly and as forcibly as I could, "I'm from new Jersey. My name is Stanford."

There were plenty of murmurs from the lot and I suddenly felt uneasy again. 

"New Jersey?!" The man laughed, "that's mighty far!"

"I suppose it is..."

The man smiled at me, taking my hand and shaking it firmly. 

“Interestin’ hand you got on ya,” he chuckled and I hid it shyly, “don't worry! We see plenty of stuff like that around here.”

Relieved by how nonchalant he was about my deformity, I lightened up. Through my travels I had learned not a lot of people were as accepting as he was.

"Fiddleford," he introduced himself, "I'm the engineer here. I make explosives and devices that hopefully don't kill us all." He let go of my hand and turned his head away to spit into a nearby can.

"So you're an inventor?" 

"I suppose," he intoned as he wiped the tobacco juice from his lip.

The two of us surprisingly had a lot in common and had formed a sort of fellowship while working in the mines. I admired his inventions and he was impressed with my medical skills. With the both of us on site workers barely got hurt, let alone suffered from their injuries. I had grown to enjoy working in the there, but still took delight in learning about biology. 

Most of my paycheck went towards books and texts from the store downtown. My home was soon filled to the brink with novels. It seemed that whenever I wasn't working I was reading. Even on my lunch break I would sit with my back against the birch trees and read textbooks. 

It hadn't taken long for Fiddleford to notice my habit and pointed it out accordingly. 

"So what's with you and all this literature, huh?" He asked as he ate his lunch beside me. 

I shrugged, "I suppose I just find it entertaining."

He snatched the book from my hands without warning, "what is this anyways?"

"Hey!"

"A treatise on the venereal disease? This what you find entertaining?"

I snatched the book back from him and stuck it under my thigh.

He scoffed, "why are you so entranced with life and the meaning of it?"

I sighed, unsure what to say, until the words just tumbled out, "It's like a river. It takes us away so quickly and it astounds me with a sudden feeling of wonder and astonishment. At times it strikes nefariously, without a warning. The right combination of tissue and electricity is enough to bring something to life." 

"That's deep, Stanford," Fiddleford told me as he started to chew another pinch of tobacco.

"What about you?" I asked.

"Me? What I fail to do in my day-to-day life is take things seriously. It's just not worth it; it'll drive you insane."

There was a thoughtful pause before the lunch bell rang, telling us to get back to work. 

We were on our way back when Fiddleford spoke up again, "So, if you don't mind me askin', why did you leave new Jersey? I'd think you'd make more money over there than here in the middle of nowhere." 

"I was different," I looked at my hand for a moment, "I wasn't able to be who I wanted to be there."

Fiddleford grunted an approval, walking with me back to work. 

The rest of the day was a fairly slow one. We all worked until our skin took on a glossy shine and the salt invaded our eyes. But as we kept moving the sweat was a welcome addition, cooling us down while also reminding us of our hard work. It's only when we had hit a difficult spot in the rocks that we stopped to take a breath. 

"There's something in these rocks," one of our coworkers announced, "it's like there's no way through..."

Fiddleford stood up, "I guess it's my time to shine." 

Everyone was evacuated at once. For Fiddleford, setting the bomb was easy. He worked with calculated precision, the right wires to the right place in a colour coding only he understood. He came out with a small trigger in his hand. He cleared the area in front of the mine and demanded everyone to cover their ears. Then, without warning, there was an enormous explosion. It was as though a fist of orange flame had decided to punch its way out of the front of the mine. 

Everyone stood in awe as their hearing slowly returned. I had seen the size of the bomb, and I was surprised it could do so much damage.

Fiddleford laughed wholeheartedly, as he was clearly pleased with his work.

The two of us ventured back into the cave to see the damage that was dealt. The smoke and debris started died down and the damage was... naught. The dust settled and all that had been revealed was a small crater in the wall, bearing an old painting. 

"What is blazes was that?! It did nothin'!" Fiddleford huffed.

I was nearly too mesmerized to even understand what he said. How could these ancient inscriptions survive that?

"What is it?" I breathed out.

"A bunch of hooey, that's what!"

Something suddenly caught my eye. 

"It says something..."

"What does it say? 'Suck it'?"

I scoffed at his childish remarks. It looked like a sort of spell. I worked up some courage and read the words aloud. 

"Triangulum, entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Meteforis venetisarium..."

The both of us waited, disquieted as to what may happen next. But it was... nothing. 

"Well, I guess gettin' wound up like that was all for nothin'."

We called the rest of the crew in and started work again. None of us could get a chip out of the painting no matter how hard we tried. So, we all decided to work around it instead. It soon became an awkward column in the middle of the cavern. It was quite ominous, as it felt like we were being watched, judged, arbitrated.

The feeling only got worse. I felt disoriented and nauseous. Before I knew it everything was spinning. 

Fiddleford and others seemed to have noticed almost immediately. They helped me regain my balance, all chiming in to ask if I was alright.

"Why don't you get some fresh air?" Fiddleford suggested.

Before I could protest or say I'd be fine I was being escorted outside. They set me against a tree in the birch patch Fiddleford and I had lunch. 

"Jus' take a breather, alright?" Fiddleford gave me a soft smile before he and the others who helped vanished back into the mine. 

My head was swirling in a way that made me drowsy. Even with my eyes open darkness seemed to cloud my vision. I was not aware, for some time, of my perturbed sleep. 

My eyes opened slowly. It was as if someone had adjusted the colours of the world in the night, like it was as easy as twisting one of those old plastic dials on a TV set. Everything was brighter than it should have been. There were shapes contrasting with blacks and yellows, and the occasional white; lights which dot the blanket in an intricate pattern. But then it hit me. This was space.

I got to my feet, being held up by seemingly nothing, and began to walk around. Books and various two-dimensional symbols floated around me. 

"Hiya, smart guy!"

I staggered back in a sudden panic. It was a... triangle? With a top hat and a bow tie. I couldn't believe my eyes and I was sure I had lost it. 

"Woah," it laughed, "don't have a heart attack, you're not 92 yet."

His (I assume a "him". Voice was the only evidence I had) single eye glowed with a faint yellow every time he spoke. For something with no face, he showed quite a bit of emotion.

I looked around in a spur of curiosity, "who are you?"

"Name's Bill! And your name's Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world, but I'm getting ahead of ourselves; let's relax! Care for a game of interdimensional chess?"

A table and chairs developed, scooping me up. A chessboard came into being and placed itself on the table. Bill sat across from me and snapped his fingers, forming a teapot and cups.

"Have a cup of tea!"

A beverage was promptly poured for me and I smiled, flattered. I decided it was safe and moved a piece on the chessboard. 

"So, what is all this?" I asked.

"Well you see, I'm a muse, a being who presides over the arts and sciences. I choose one mind every century to inspire. And you, Stanford, are one heck of a mind!" Bill floated a pawn across the board.

"Really?" I attempted to hide my flattery.

"Of course! And I could help you be even better!"

He proceeded to explain how I was destined for greatness and that I could make my dreams a reality if I just let him into my mind. I made a deal with him, which wouldn't be the last time. The contract was sealed with flames of cobalt blue.

I was nervous, unsure, skeptical. But he was such a nice guy! Plus, by the time we finished talking about zymotic diseases I knew he was unfeigned.

I began to see Bill every day. I would sacrifice my lunch hour to sleep and talk to him. I was introduced to overwhelming information and wisdom, learning about countless extraterrestrial life. His knowledge seemed to be endless. It was like liquid adrenaline being injected right into my bloodstream - not so strong as to scare me off, but just enough to make me tingle with excitement.

I started to fall for Bill and his intelligence, finding myself more and more entranced with him. 

My co-workers began to notice my change in behavior. Many of them became worried and began confronting me about napping during lunch or looking "too happy". 

"Maybe Ford here's got a lady friend," Fiddleford joked, "he might be tired from staying up all night."

This made everyone laugh. But I, on the other hand just rolled my eyes. Even if I told them they wouldn't understand. After all, who would believe me if I said I was gaining sustenance from a one-eyed triangle? I decided to keep it a secret. 

I slept during my lunch break (again) that day. 

"Do you trust me, Stanford?" Bill asked me the moment I walked into the dreamscape.

I hesitated. Why would he doubt that?

"Of course I do, Bill."

Bill flew over to me, his eye wide with anticipation. I could feel his hand on my shoulder before he was close enough to reach, though when he made contact his skin was cooler than I'd imagined. 

"I have something I want to share with you."

I remember a feeling in my chest. The anticipation was a nervous kind of energy. It tingled through me like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in my toes. 

"I have the secret to recreating life, and I want you to make me a vessel."

Sparks started to fly in my brain, desperately trying to connect the dots and instead just causing a short circuit. I looked at him, stupefied, and could see the amusement in his eye. Perfectly funny to him.

"That's right, Sixer! We can be together and be the greatest scientists the world has ever known!"

I nodded excitedly, "anything for you, Bill! In the name of science!"

"That's my boy," he cooed.

I was thrilled, but I wasn't aware of the hell I was bringing onto myself.

 

~°~

 

Though some people fear demons or attempt to exorcise them, others willfully attempt to summon them for knowledge, assistance, or power. I was one of those foolish enough to evoke one, and withal become enamoured by one. 

He was powerful, intelligent and inexorable; he was my heart's desire. He earned a godlike status in my eyes, and I easily fell for his flattery and manipulation. 

Once Bill told me how I could build him a vessel, let alone recreate life, I was awestruck. I started right away, looking for the parts I needed. My first instinct was the graveyard outside of town. There had to be something salvageable there, so I made plans to go that very night. 

I arrived in the middle of the night of a full moon. Rows of tombstones stood erect in silence to the left and right, in front and behind, like a sea of dead. Some were crumbled with the weathering of centuries, they were overgrown and unkempt, for now even their mourners had joined them under the clay soil. Some were smooth marble with new black writing and laid with floral tributes. 

I had stood there digging for what felt like hours, the smell of dirt clogging my nose and gravel soon finding its way into my shoes. It was nearly daybreak when my shovel finally hit wood. I began to use my hands, frantically ripping away dirt from the top of the coffin. I grabbed the edge with my fingernails and ripped the box open. 

Under the wintry light of the woodland the corpse was utterly still and more than slightly frozen. Even without blood, it was awfully gruesome.

I pulled the saw from my bag. Placed on the shoulder, took a deep breath, and began to move. The movement started out soft. It was easier than expected, that is, until I hit bone. It was suddenly gruesome to watch as blood and marrow bubbled onto the floor of the coffin. The crunches and snaps made by the saw made my own bones ache. The bone soon gave way with a pop, and I simply pulled the arm off as fast as I could. The slightest shiver rushed through me. 

I repeated this on the other arm, feeling slightly worse than before. I took both appendages and wrapped them in a sheet then jumped out of the grave. 

After covering the ditch and gathering my belongings, I began to make my way back into town. My clothing was covered in dirt and blood. I received multiple glares from various people. I would get used to the scowls and whispers the more days that went on and the more parts I collected. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be enough. I was confronted by Bill one night.

"You're taking an awful long time, Stanford," Bill tsked.

I nearly got on my knees, "please Bill," I beseeched, "you have to believe me, there are just no organs fresh enough to harvest!"

"Well?" 

"W-well?" 

He scoffed and my heart felt like it had hit concrete. 

"Well I- What should I do?" I asked diffidently.

Bill's hue suddenly changed, becoming more red than before. 

"Find some fresh ones!"

I quickly nodded in agreement before waking up. 

I pondered what I could possibly do to obtain the parts needed. Perhaps I could find an even fresher grave? Or somebody who had fallen ill? But everything I thought of would pose risk to the vessel. I decided what I had to do. 

A dim light oozed into the alleyway that I sequestered myself in. Darkness was lurking in every corner inside the labyrinth of narrow passages and dead ends. Litter was dumped on the street and bottles strewn left and right. My palms were beginning to get sweaty as they clung to the ax in my hand. 

Aside from the beat of my heart, no muscle would move.

Suddenly, a muffled, indistinct sound echoed from outside. I peeked around the corner. It was man and he had stumbled out of the bar next door. 

I slipped back into the alleyway. My knees felt as if they were going to give out, perhaps fall right off. I tried to get myself together, tried to just think of the positives. Like Bill. Like how proud he would be, all the praise he would shower me with once I finished this vessel, how the two of us could be together in reality and be the greatest scientists the world had ever known!

The jumbled mess of footsteps seemed to be getting closer. The man finally passed the alleyway and I took my chance.

The ax entered his back as if it was nothing, just meat, blood, bones, blasting a cavity in his flesh. The ax entered over and over again as my arms swung with exorbitant violence.

After that I seemed to blackout. It was chaos in my head; I did not know where I was. How did I get there? What was I doing? how could I do it?

When I started to regain consciousness I noticed just how much damage I had done. The body laid like a butchered animal in a waste of blood. 

I reluctantly gathered what I needed and went on my way. To my dismay, not everything was salvageable. The man was obviously an alcoholic, as his liver was worse for wear. 

It was decided I'd have to kill again in order to get what I needed. 

This time didn't seem as hard, but it should have been. 

She was a young woman with long hair and flawless skin. She had been walking home, a basket of bread hung off her arm. Heaven knows why she was out so late, but this was the perfect chance to strike.

When the task was finished hair was knotted and messy, stained with dried blood. The body was slumped over, half-sitting, half-laying on the cold street. The heart had been cleaved from the body. The arteries, now drained of fluid, stuck out like rubber hoses.

But I still didn't have what I needed, and I was reluctant. The guilt of killing two people felt like a lingering block of ice just sitting in my gut. I couldn't melt it or shift it at all. I needed Him to bring his warmth and knowledge, to show me that I could be better, that what I was doing was for something I loved. 

But the guilt of killing four more would be a bit more difficult to recuperate from.

 

~°~

 

"I have to say, Sixer, I'm impressed!"

He flew over me, his small fingers find their way into my hair and combing it as he went by. 

I couldn’t find my voice. I felt my cheeks flushed hot, and my stomach was heavy. My heart pounded in my throat, threatening to break out. 

He seemed to sense my mortification and turned to face me. "Are you okay?" He asked with a flash of excitement in his eye.

I took a deep breath, "Yeah, I'm okay," I stared up at my muse in fear, hoping he didn't realize my discomposure. 

"Why?" 

"W-why?"

He always seemed to be asking me odd questions. He seemed to have little knowledge of the workings of the human mind. Yet, he knew just about everything else. 

"Well yeah!" He said cheerfully, "you're breathing has basically stopped though your heart rate has quickened. And you're breaking out in a sweat!"

He came up and pressed his hand to my forehead, "sure you're not sick?" He looked even more entertained than before. 

I tried to control my breathing but the fact that an all knowing being and powerful muse was touching my forehead was driving me to the brink of delirium.

"Y-yes. I'm sure!" I finally managed to choke out.

He seemed wholly entertained.

I suppose he liked it. From then on he would play with my hair and touch me tenderly in blatant attempts to get me flustered. And it unfortunately worked. 

He would go on about how I was by far the most mentally attractive human he had ever laid his eye on as well as how proud he was in the way had grown intellectually since we had met. 

I was a fool. I see that now but at the time I thought I was blessed. I followed his instructions to begin using the parts I had collected to put the vessel together. 

It was mid winter and I had just begun to put pieces and parts together. I had kept the parts fresh using what Bill called a "little trick" of his. It involved an odd mix of science and alchemy. I figured it was best not to question it.

I had just started on the abdomen when there was a knock at my door. I was puzzled. I never had any visitors. I covered the body up with a sheet and clumsily wiped my hands onto my pants. 

I cracked the door ajar. 

"Hello? Who-" 

I almost didn't recognize him. His hair was long and gawky, and he had the beginning of a beard on his broad chin. His shoulders and arms were thick, although it was unmissable he was malnourished. His lips were pale and his voice was weak. 

"Hello, brother..." he choked out. 

"Stanley?" 

Frost was creeping under his clothes, spreading across his skin like lace. His lips were tinged with blue and his teeth gently chattered. I reacted instinctively and grabbed a jacket, wrapping it around his shoulders. I beckoned him in. 

"What were you thinking?!" 

He meanly groaned in response. 

I gently guided him to the couch and forced him to lay down. I ran off into the kitchen to get him some tea. Luckily I had just brewed a pot. I ran back out with a cup in my hand. Before I could insist Stanley to drink it he spoke. 

"I've been looking for you..." his voice was hoarse, "a year... or two."

At first his eyes were cast to the ceiling and then he seemed to suddenly realize where he was. He turned his head. His face had the same structure as my own, high cheekbones and symmetrical. He had the same deep brown eyes and tanned skin. 

"You were always too persistent, Stanley," I sighed.

His hands shook gently as he reached for the hot tea. They were ashen, not ghostly white, but subdued and greyish. I think that was when I realized how much of a toll the journey had taken. 

"Why did you come looking for me?" I asked.

Stanley didn't speak for a moment, "I guess..." he hesitated, "I'm just not the same without you, Stanford. We're twins... We were supposed to grow up, bond, own the port together and-"

"The port?" My mind short circuited for a moment, "does father know you're gone?"

Stanley didn't answer. The answer was obviously no.

I didn't want to push anything further, or make him waste his energy by answering questions.

Stanley laid sick for another three days and I hadn't dared go out even to forage or trade. I laid cloths of cold water over his forehead and prayed for his fever to break. He was only getting worse. 

"Stanford..." he sighed.

"Yes, Stanley?" I asked quietly.

"I'm glad you don't hate me; that you haven't let me die." 

"I wouldn't let you die, you're my brother- my twin."

"You left," Stanley turned to look at me, his eyes glossed over, "I thought you didn't truly care about me."

Things were silent for an instant.

I had held a grudge against Stan for many years. I felt like he betrayed me. But now he was back, and I thought I should have been angry, but...

"Stanley, even after all these years I have yet to forget you and the bond we had."

He coughed out a laugh, "I see you're still the softy you were back then, Sixer" 

I rolled my eyes. He was just like he was when I left. 

"Do you think- if I get better- we could start over? Perhaps live life like we planned?"

I nodded and he did the same. 

Having Stanley back in my life felt like a hole in my heart had been filled. We had caught up, talked about what our parents were doing, what New Jersey was like. It was like I had never left. 

The days continued to drag on and we continued to make amends, but Stanley only got worse. And soon...

I remember the morning all too well. It had been cold, yet there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I walked up to Stanley. My heart was suddenly drenched by fear. Everything fading into abyss.

His gaze was weak and his skin was pale like alabaster. He grasped his chest and he gave me a knowing smile. His breaths were shaking. 

I fell to my knees and took his hand. I closed my eyes, unable to watch, let alone prevent what was happening. The tears spilled from my eyes and drenched my cheeks.

In that moment of loss my world collapsed - where there was light became shadows, the pain coming and going like waves. I had just gotten him back and then he was gone. 

The sadness flowed through my veins and poisoned my mind. New ideas that I once would have dismissed as insane started to grow roots. They began to become clear. I finally knew how I would finish the vessel and bring Stanley back.

I grabbed the saw from my collection of surgical tools. 

There is a ripping, popping sound as the ligaments tear, and the quiet breaking of a stick as the bone finally gives way. 

I held Stanley's head close as his blood ran dark on my skin. My fingers tangled into his hair.

"I won't let you die, Stanley. Not like this; not be because of me."

By the next morning the vessel was finished.

 

~°~

 

The vessel had been completed and all that was left was to bring it to life. I needed a machine that produced enough of a shock to rouse it. Luckily I knew just the person. 

I knocked quietly first but there was only silence. I pounded louder and faster then proceeded to stand and stare at the door, unmoving. 

A voice came from the other side, "gimme a sec'!"

The door suddenly swung open and I was met with wide eyes. 

"Stanford?!"

"Hello, Fiddleford..." I mumbled shyly, "I-"

"We haven't seen you in weeks! Everyone thinks yer dead!"

"I know I just-"

"Probably wrapped up in all that science crap, huh?"

I smiled the slightest, "yes... I actually came because of it. I need a favour from you."

"Well, I suppose I could help..."

Fiddleford let me in, motioning me to the couch. I politely refused. 

"Listen," I quickly got to the point, "I need a machine that produces a large shock- one that is... possibly lethal."

There was a moment where Fiddleford's face went blank with shock, then paved over with confusion.

"I- well, yeah, actually..." 

He pulled me to a room filled with metal scraps, wires, and plenty of other bits and pieces. He pointed to a large metal box in the corner. 

"That one over there. I made it to try and break through that weird wall in the mine but It creates too much electricity to make a safe explosion. But I guess that's what I get for makin' it so big... I guess you can have it if ya want. Just don't-you know- kill anyone with it."

I excitedly accepted, assuring him that I would use it for the exact opposite. 

I eventually found myself dragging the machine back home through the snow. I felt complacent, more alive than I had ever thought possible. All of my past worries had been muted and all there was to know about was now; No worrying about the past, no anxiety about the future. I just knew that Stanley would be back and Bill and I would be together. 

I lugged the machine into the house and dropped it next to the gurney. I uncovered the vessel. Without hesitation, I attached the electrodes to its skin. One above the heart and one just below the ribs.

This was the moment I had been waiting for this for and it felt almost surreal. Every fiber of my being was vibrating with anticipation. My hands shook as I gripped the machine's switch. I had a good feeling about this. Nothing that felt this right could possibly go wrong- It just couldn't.

I suddenly flipped the switch as a dash of adrenaline jolted through me.

There was a bright light, a burst, and... the smell of burnt flesh. 

My heart suddenly sunk. 

Dark charred marks were left on its chest and there was no sign of life. I suddenly felt defeated. All that I had done had been for nothing. All hope seemed to have been choked from my heart. 

There was a stir and abruptly that aspiration returned. I pressed my ear to the chest of the body. Everything was silent for an instant, then I could hear it: a faint pounding and I wanted to do backflips I was so happy. I pulled my head away and waiting in elation. 

The eyes flew open, radiating with a lively yellow light. I couldn't contain my jubilation. My throat constricted and I began to choke. Tears burned in my eyes as I was overwhelmed with an odd mix of solace and complete joy. 

The next thing I knew, I had slammed its lips to mine and nearly knocked all wind from my lungs. I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed up against my own. It had happened before I could even comprehend was I had done, and by the time I pulled myself back it was too late. 

Our eyes met and there was a long pause. I swallowed harshly and held my breath. 

I couldn't have predicted what happened next. It smiled. And so far-reaching that it was almost frightening. 

"Thanks for the body, Sixer."

My breath caught in my throat as Bill's voice leaked from what once were my brothers lips. I was thrilled to see my muse in flesh but... 

"What about Stanley?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. 

"Oh... IQ," He tsked in false shame, "I brought him here. This was his fate! Without him I wouldn't have my body."

It felt like the ground had fallen from under my feet. My stomach seemed to drop so hard it hurt. My heart felt like it was palpitating. My fingers suddenly twitched and I grabbed the front of my shirt almost like it was my heart and I was trying to retain it. 

"Y-you what? Did you- did you use him?!"

"Hoho!" Bill cackled, "Looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart! Let's just say that now that I'm here your dimension is gonna learn how to party!"

"You lied to me! You used me! We were supposed to-!" 

"To what? Be together? Change the world? Be in love? It's cute how delirious you humans are!"

Every word stung and fueled the fire that smoldered in me. Every derision was like fuel being thrown on. My fists began to clench and my jaw rooted. Something suddenly boiled over and I exploded with anger. 

In a fit of rage I lunged at him, knocking over the entire table he still laid on. We wrestled on the floor for a good while. It was a disarray of screams, scratches, and hits. I gripped at his shoulder and tore at the stitches that held him together. His sudden screeches made my blood run cold. 

Adrenaline surged through my veins; fight or flight, run or take up arms, be a hero or a coward. 

The more each of us struggled the worse it got and suddenly the stitches gave way. His arm finally ripped and I threw it to the side. 

"Dammit!" Bill hissed. He swung with his remaining arm, but I wasn't going to let him win this time. I countered by grabbing his wrist and slamming my own into his chest. He coughed, the slightest hint of blood emerged at the corner of his mouth.

"You'll... regret this," Bill jeered. He suddenly kicked me in the chest and I flew back. As I hit the floor the wind in my lungs flew out of me. 

By the time I recovered he was gone, leaving nothing more than a trail of blood in his wake. I screamed in frustration. So much that I began to taste iron in the back of my throat. 

The last of who I loved was gone.

 

~°~

 

Several weeks had passed and I had yet to invoke my revenge on Bill. I searched relentlessly for him yet was empty-handed. No matter where I went he was always a step ahead. It was driving me insane. My body had become my cage and I soon came to resent my beating heart. They say death takes everything from you. It rips and tears and ruins. I wanted to feel it pounding in my head and gnawing on my veins. The guilt of what happened to Stanley, and now countless others, was truly taking its toll. Bill was the only one I wanted dead more than myself. It was difficult for me to cope with random bouts of anger and hysterical depression. I began to use alcohol as a way to escape; a way to control my emotions. I went to bars nearly every night. I came to lust after it like no other, the strong tonic becoming my only "cure."

It came to the point where I would stumble the streets at night, supposedly rambling and screaming, breaking things without any regret and lose consciousness of it in the morning. 

I do remember one night, however. I had been exasperatedly depressed. I wanted to be "free", so to speak. I had spent quite a sum of money on an entire bottle of brandy. My goal was to just drink it all hope hope that death himself would find me. Perhaps in the middle of the street somewhere or passed out in a gutter.

But it would have to wait. Only a few sips in and I had been interrupted by a scream in a nearby alley. 

Once I found it I stood to the side for a moment. Sounds of ripping and squelches sent chills up my spine. I was curious and reluctantly looked around the corner. It was a young woman, dead, blood spewing from the open lesion in her neck. A one-armed figure was hunched over her, taking pieces of flesh from her wound and devouring it.

He turned to me, eyes glowing a bright yellow, blood staining his devilish grin. 

"Long time no see, Sixer!"

I didn't even have time to riposte. I was already on top of him, wrestling and punching and scratching as I tried to deal as much damage as I possibly could. His rabid laughter only made me even more livid. 

"Give it up, Stanford!"

I pinned him under my weight, straddling his chest as I began to punch him over and over and over. I pounded on him like I wanted to crush him into the very earth.

"No!" I seethed, "you've taken everything I've ever loved! You've ruined my life!" 

I pulled the pocket knife from my boot and flicked it open. 

Bill tittered, "I dare you!" 

I hesitated, and for a moment the only thing I could hear was my own heart beat. Bill suddenly grabbed my wrist and placed the tip of the knife to his forehead. 

"DO IT!" His demand reverberated in my ears like a clap of thunder. It was a roar of pure anger.

I suddenly smacked the handle with my palm. The blade plunged into his head, causing unsettling cracks as it invaded his skull. 

Before I could help myself, I noticed his eyes were hollow. I also noticed his freckles and then, my eyes traveled to his thick dark hair. Blood had begun to soak it. My insides shrunk when I suddenly and fully realized what just occurred. 

The glow in his eyes suddenly faded and I watched as life left my brother's face for the last time.

 

~°~

 

I am tired. 

I will be truthful, I'm not exactly sure what to write now.

I have decided to finally free myself. 

I have taken a sip of who knows what. I'll be honest, I grabbed a random vile and sucked it down. It should happen any moment now...

I am struggling to keep breathing when my entire body seems to sag with exhaustion and numbed agony.

I feel so lonely. All this wouldn't be half as bad if I just had somebody with me, somebody to talk to, somebody to hold me. Why hasn't anybody found me yet? Are they even looking? Maybe they gave up. No, they'd never give up. They'll continue to look for me until they've found me, dead or alive.

Oh god, I can see it now. This is my end. My body is broken beyond repair, I grow weaker by the minute and nobody is going to find me. It would be too late even if they did. I'm going to die. That's okay, I give up.

I'm so sleepy. I guess I'll rest my eyes for a little while, just a little while. I may never open them again, but we'll find out soon enough. First I must rest.

I hope there is another life after this one. Then I will see him, and know the truth of his final days...


End file.
